


Rain

by Aryagraceling



Series: Catharsis [15]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, breakdown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 19:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17028891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryagraceling/pseuds/Aryagraceling
Summary: "What about me, Kakashi? Six months of hell and worse--the pitying stares of everyone in Konoha. I had no clue where my husband went. My husband."





	Rain

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” There’s a quiet rage in Iruka’s voice as he stands there with a stinging palm, staring at the man who left without warning. Silver hair is plastered to his forehead under the sheeting rain as he stands on Iruka’s front porch, unable to meet the teacher’s eyes. “I gave you everything-- _ everything-- _ and you up and disappear for six months, then come back looking like drowned dog. Who the  _ fuck  _ do you think you are, Hatake Kakashi?”

“Nameless.” Kakashi shrugs. 

Iruka bristles at the feigned indifference. Six months without even a hello, and the jonin shows up here in what looks to be a fresh uniform, newly stitched forehead, and one goddamn word. “Get off my porch,” he says. “I don’t want to see you here again. Ever. Get out.”

In response, Kakashi bites into his thumb and summons Pakkun. “Evening, boss,” the pug says. 

“Tell him,” Kakashi whispers. 

Iruka shakes his head. “That’s not going to work this time,” he says. “Six months is not something you can throw away with a cute look. I’m sorry, Pakkun. I mean no offense to you.”

“You might want to listen,” Pakkun says, and Kakashi nods. “It’s been six months of hell.”

“What about the ones you left behind?” Iruka forces Kakashi’s chin up and stares venomously into his eyes. “What about me, Kakashi? Six months of hell and worse, the pitying stares of everyone in Konoha. I had no clue where my husband went. My  _ husband. _ ”

“He buried three people yesterday, Iruka,” Pakkun says.

“I don’t--”  _ Care,  _ he wants to say, but Kakashi’s eye is filling and it’s not with the rain. “You left me.” 

“I had orders.” Kakashi pulls down his mask with the shakiest fingers and Iruka watches as his lip quivers before he bites it. “I never wanted to hurt y--”

“A warning would have been nice.” Iruka moves to shut the door--because what sort of half-assed apology is that supposed to be--but Pakkun moves to wedge himself in before Iruka can close it completely. “Please, Pakkun.”

“Genma, Tenzou, and Ibiki,” Pakkun says. “Please.”

Iruka’s gaze snaps up to where Kakashi’s face is crumbling like a sandcastle caught in the tide. “What happened?” he breathes.

“I can’t,” Kakashi says with voice breaking. “I can’t say it.” His gloved hand curls over his mouth as both eyes open, Sharingan flashing through the grey of the storm. He doesn’t say another word before his knees buckle and he sinks to the sodden wood of the porch. “I can’t,” he repeats, and Iruka finds himself unable to step back as Kakashi leans forward to wrap both arms around his legs. Kakashi is shaking all over now, so much Iruka nearly feels his jaw begin rattling.

“Kakashi, get up,” he says, trying in vain to untangle himself and step back to the safety of inside. Into the home that has become  _ his  _ and not theirs anymore. “Pakkun?” The pug nudges at Kakashi’s elbow and it only serves to make Kakashi hold tighter. “I’m going to fall,” Iruka says. “Please let go.” 

Kakashi doesn’t, and Iruka sits down hard on the front door mat. “I  _ can’t,”  _ the jonin says. He’s miles away now, Iruka knows. Innumerable times he’s come back with more scars and more stories he’s not ready to tell until Iruka assures him that he is safe. That he is home. “I can’t, I can’t, I c--”

“Stop.” Iruka’s heart aches. His hips are already beginning to ache because the floor is uncomfortable with Kakashi holding onto his shins like his life depends on it. Like he’ll float away if Kakashi lets go. Everything aches because after six months of not knowing if the man he loves is dead or alive or even loves him back, here he is in front of Iruka. Clinging. “Why, Kakashi?” he asks.

“We could not fight a god,” Kakashi cries against his knee. “I was spared. Alone. As a  _ warning.”  _ His nails bite into Iruka’s skin through thin pajama pants. “I’m nothing more than a pathetic warning.”

Iruka finally pulls himself back, dragging Kakashi with him over the threshold. Kakashi scrambles to keep up, keep every spot of contact he can as Iruka shuts the door behind them. “You’re--” He doesn’t have the words. How can he be thinking of apologizing? They were his friends too, and Kakashi does not deserve his forgiveness yet. The tears are bad, the shaking worse, but even though ordered to Kakashi left without a word. Without warning, left Iruka in a tailspin the likes of which he’d never seen before.

One week was fine. 

Two weeks was irritating.

Then the weeks turned into a month, two, and Iruka began to cry himself to sleep. He spent the days with a smile on his face and his nights with a bottle. Occasionally on the awful nights, when he couldn’t stand to look at the moon because it reminded him of the way it glinted off of Kakashi’s hair, he let the light flash off of a blade instead. 

“Iruka.” Kakashi’s grabbing at his hands now, gloves sopping and scratchy against Iruka’s skin. He pushes back the sleeve of Iruka’s shirt before holding the arm to his chest and letting his tears soak the scars. “You shouldn’t, your skin--”

“My sanity,” Iruka chokes out. “You took my soul with you.”

“I wanted to say goodbye.” Kakashi’s voice is thin and high, tremulous below a roll of thunder. “I told her I wanted to say goodbye and she told me to leave. I wanted to see you one last time.” He drops the arm to press Iruka’s legs to the floor and crawl into his lap like a child. Iruka hisses as his damp hair comes into contact with his neck, sighs at the relief of holding his husband close once again. “I have spent six months thinking how I wasn’t able to tell you I love you, R-Ru,” Kakashi whimpers. “I was dying and all I saw was your face.”

Iruka says nothing, frustrated tears turning to all the quiet touches they haven’t had these last months as they rock under the soft lamplight together. They do not kiss, do not speak, barely even breathe as they begin to grieve for their friends and their time lost. It is their time to come to terms with past and present and think about how they will proceed, now that Kakashi is home.

He really is because even though their pain is sinking into the old bones of the house it is their pain, not Iruka’s alone. Forgiveness may come later but Iruka can finally sleep with the knowledge Kakashi is alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere, with god knows what tearing him apart. Kakashi is home. He is safe. They will share a bed and each other’s embrace tonight. After six months, that is enough.

Kakashi came home.

**Author's Note:**

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End file.
